30 Times Milo and Marcia Behind the hard shell
by thepurplequill
Summary: 30 One Shots about Milo Banda and Marcia Overstrand. Many different situations with fluff and feelings Marcia never thought she would experience. Edited & Reanimated
1. The First Kiss

**Hey guys! **

**This is my first FanFiction in English and it was abandoned from January 2015 until June 2016.**

**All chapters are edited now, but still far from perfect. At least it does not cause me physical pain while reading it anymore. There are still mistakes in it, let's be realistic in this point, but it got much better.**

**In my attempt to make the story smoother to read, I changed some parts and even changed the whole ending of this first chapter, so re-reading might be worth it after all those months. **

**Constructive critic is still always welcome!**

_The first kiss_

Somehow, Tapas always remind her of the good old times. If they really were good or not is the matter of opinion, but they weren't bad for sure.

She had spent the whole evening preparing those little dishes instead of working and she doesn't know yet if she should regret it or not.

It will depend on the person she sits face to face with and how much wine she will drink tonight.

"You've always liked it exotic. I remember how you compelled me to cook a Far Eastern speciality with you. Hell, and how the kitchen looked like after it! A battlefield.", her guest says and takes one of the little bowls.

At the thought of it, she has to grin. In those days, she had zero cooking skills but fancied cooking all kinds of dishes from regions far away. Sometimes it worked wonderfully, most of the time it did not, but it always ended with a kitchen... well, burning it down and building a new one would have been easier than always cleaning it up.

"Oh yes, and I also remember the not really amused look of Alther he had given me every time he had seen me with a cookbook and a pan. But you have to admit: the duck we had one time was very delicious." She takes one of the few dishes too.

"With the sauce the north retailer love to make... I forgot the name of it, but I remember the taste." He nods approvingly and puts another bite into his mouth. It's always like this: Either the food she made matches his taste and he wants to enjoy every tiny piece of it, or it is the complete opposite. An in-between hardly exists somehow, but this time, he cannot complain about anything. And to be fair, even her worst dish still tastes better than his best. "It's rather interesting that we sit and eat here together again, after all those years. The last time was more than fifteen years ago, wasn't it?"

"It is also interesting that we have made up and I... Well, if someone had predicted this six years ago, I would have throttled them, most likely." She hikes her shoulders. "It's interesting how life goes sometimes, but I cannot say I am not happy with the outcome."

"I cannot say I am not pleased to hear this. Somehow I've missed you and these shared evenings." He looks into her piercing green eyes and would like to lose himself in them, but he knows that an embarrassing moment would follow immediately. She is so beautiful.

Hell, he really did miss her. At first, when she stopped talking to him, he knew it but shrugged the pain that came with it off. During his marriage and after it, he forgot about his feelings towards her. But after they met again, after he returned to the Castle, it hit him like the carpet beater her mother hit him with once. He missed her. Always.

He never doubted his love for Cerys and he never doubted the decision he made to marry her, but he will never understand why he led Marcia on for a while and hurt her so much, made the woman that never avoids a fight close up to him and even made her cutting him out of her life. Anyway, she was his best friend since they were only children.

She did not deserve this and he wants to make up for it, wants to show his affection for her which he always had and wants to show her the feelings he has for her in the present.

His short-lived wife is part of his past and he probably would have loved her deeply until his own death if they had spent a long life together. He even loves her now, but it is different. It has changed with the long years without her and although he is not a real pragmatic, he knows that she will never come back and that it is time to move on. To not dwell on the past anymore.

But Marcia, his childhood friend is his present and the only thing that matters is the right here and the right now.

She is the person with whom he can imagine to build a life, a future, to have her by his side, even if she does not see more in him than a friend. He does not know when the intense feelings for her came up, but they are here, he cannot deny it. Since the reconciliation between them, he has some sort of hope that she has warm feelings for him, even though she hides them behind the usual cold veneer to avoid getting hurt.

But what kind of feelings she has for him, he does not know.

Maybe he is only a very close friend, maybe even something like a brother, but he does not care as long as she allows him to stay in her life.

What Milo does not know is that Marcia did not only have a simple crush on him as a young woman and that her feelings never really were gone – got less, but never were gone – even after he had stopped talking to him because he got engaged with the Queen. Of course, they were gone after he had left the Castle and did not return. But when he returned, when she saw him standing there, she felt not only a tingling in her stomach but a roller-coaster. The feelings she thought lost lived up within a few seconds. But, as the ExtraOrdinary Wizard, she has no time for a relationship, which is why she is used to suppress her deeper feelings she develops for men and only allows her daydreams in weak moments. He wouldn't be the first she rejects not because her feelings are not mutual, but because she lacks time and has a too big duty sense. Besides that, his interest in other women leaves her in a confused a hurt position, over and over again. She gave up on everything that is more than a close relationship months ago. He loves to flirt, she is no exception, so she cannot assume he wants more... Well, of course, Milo wants more, but he probably does not want the more in her understand: A relationship.

But... why not enjoying having a good and established friendship? What is wrong with that? You cannot stop feelings overnight, but when you put something behind, it does not hurt that much anymore. Both of them are deep in their own thoughts, drink their wine and eat.

No one speaks until Milo tilts his head and starts watching her. Confused she looks up and looks right into his eyes with one of her eyebrows raised. What does he think?

"Let us dance.", he says with a calm and silent voice.

"What?", she asks and looks at him in amusement. "What gave you the inspiration? We don't even have music."

"So what? With or without it, because of you, we will get out of step at one point anyway. Besides that we have done that every now and then in the past." He stands up and puts out his hand with a smile. "May I have this dance, girl with the big green eyes?"

"That's how you called me when we were not even twenty and even back then I hated it. And I take the thing with the cadence personal." Laughing, she takes his hand, letting him pull her up and guide her into the living room to have more space.

"I know", he says, grinning and pulling her nearer. "How about a slow waltz to start with? Bet you did not unlearn it."

"I hope so. Everything else would be quite sad... And you do know that your hand should be between my shoulder blades and not on my lower back?" With a raised eyebrow and still amused she puts her left hand on his shoulder.

"Pardon, madam. This was not my intention.", he answers with an innocent look and puts his hand further up. "Ready?"

She takes his left hand with her right one. "Ready."

She has forgotten how near you are the other person while dancing the waltz and she feels a misgiving coming up nearly immediately, yet she continues. He guides her with soft pressure and even without music, he had the right tact. After a few minutes of dancing and being chest to chest with him, she feels a prickling going through her body. So there it is. Damn. She curses herself before getting distracted by the hand that strokes her back so softly, so innocently. She looks squarely into his eyes, loses herself in the warm brown of them, caresses the side of his hand with her thumb. The time seems to stand still for now and there is only him and her. No work, no Septimus who will come home soon, no work on her desk.

"You are so beautiful.", she hears him say and needs a moment until the sentence sinks in.

"Thank you.", she replies awkwardly, to say at least something. Inside, she is torn up between the feeling of stopping whatever there is happening right now and giving in for once. How do you deal with compliments like that? How do you reply properly? "You are not hard on the eyes either."

They stop dancing, only stand there and look at each other. Delicately, Milo brushed a curl out of her face and runs his fingertips over her cheek. How long did he want to do this at least one time in his life? No one says a word and there is no need for it. Unusual shy, she puts her right hand on his nape and lets him put both of his hands on her waist.

For a moment he rests his forehead against hers, they both breath faster and Marcia shivers from the nervousness that got hold of her, but she does not pull away, rather leans in closer and travels with her left hand down his shoulder to his upper arm. The air seems to be electrified and she asks herself if this is one of those moments that some people had experienced and wrote down very bad love story she has read out of boredom in her teenage years. Back then she never believed this actually happens to people. It is strange how she thought about their relationship and what might be between them today, only a few moments ago, and now she stands here, her lips so close to hers, his breath tingling on her skin.

The soft kiss he places on her lips does not surprise her, she rather traces everything like in a time-lapse. He pulls away after a few seconds, but after she does not protest or shove him away from her, he leans in for another, again a soft one, slow and careful, as if he fears to scare her off if the kiss is too passionate.

Right now she realises how much she has ached for this for years. How often did she dream of this? How often did she have to really force herself away from the thought of this?

Her lips prickle and she replies the kiss, deepens it, tastes him and the sweet wine they had for dinner. Her arms wrap themselves around his neck and she snuggles more into him, allows him to place his arms tighter around her.

"I don't want this to end.", he mumbles against her lips before he catches them again.


	2. The Baking

**Just as the first chapter, this one has some new and some different lines. **

**Hopefully I was able to make it more enjoyable to read but to be honest it is easier for me to write with less mistakes than it is for me to edit. Ugh. **

**Actually, it is funny how I was not able to write in English one year ago and had to translate everything and now I screw up German sentences because I write too much in English.**

„What are you doing exactly?", he asks and wraps his arms around her from behind. "You aren't baking, are you?"

"Well, what else should it be? Hanging out the laundry?" Her eyes sparkle in her amusement as she turns around and gives him a kiss on the corner of his mouth. "You could help me with it instead of groping me uselessly."

"Excuse me... What? Groping you?" She can hear the pretended outrage in his voice and rewards it with an irritated smack on his tight, the only place she reaches in this position.

"Will you help me now or not? And did you see Septimus? I don't want to show up while you – and excuse me for my repetition but I cannot stress it enough – grope me. Although I am torn between not wanting you to move and wanting you to help me.", she says and turns her head back towards the bowl in front of her.

"No idea. I believe I saw him inside of the Manuskriptorium earlier. But how long do you want to hide your relationship? Just out of curiosity.", he says and snatches the recipe, which is buried under a pack of flour and three eggs, from the table.

A chocolate cake with a list of ingredients that is longer than his last will. Holla.

"How long? As long as I think it is necessary. I want a solid relationship before I present it to the world. And if my apprentice finds out, your daughter will know it not even twenty minutes later. And you know what will happen if Jenna knows it." Spiritedly she overturns a full bowl into another one.

"That means it will stay like this for about... Half a year from now?", he asks and looks at her with a black look. It doesn't suit him that they will always have to watch out and hide their feelings. "Bright prospects. Makes me really happy, really."

Irritated, she turns around again and looks him straight into the eyes with her piercing look. "You have to understand my situation. I do not want to risk anything, not now. You know that Jenna wouldn't accept me if she knew about us and I don't want to hear all the gossip from the others. And there are many more reasons why it would destroy a young relationship like ours."

"So you don't believe in us?", he asks nearly challenging with pressing his hands to his hips, just as Marcia likes to do it. Hell, the woman starts to rub off on him.

"Of course not! Gosh, Milo!" She turns back to her cake dough. "But I am afraid and I want it to work out so badly. I am the ExtraOrdinary Wizard and it is a damn fact that people are interested in me and my life. I do not want the pressure - which would come, I don't doubt that - let me doubt anything. I want to be with you and this is exactly why I want it to be a secret for a while."

"Okay, I will wait. But not more than those six months because I can't promise you more."

"Thank you.", she whispers and gives him a kiss on his lips. "And now you could really help me with the cake."

A bit mollified again, he starts reading through the recipe he still holds in his hand. "I already have flour on my clothes so I don't think it really matters if I should get more on it. And it's a chocolate cake, right?"

"Guess you can read, right? Well, you can beat the eggs white until stiff and you can put sugar in it time after time." She points to the egg carton and the sugar. "It has to be four eggs and I need the yellow part. While you beat them until stiff, I see about the flour and the rum."

"And how do I do that? How do I part the two things?" He looks a bit lost at the carton and the two bowls next to it.

"You break them in the middle, but slowly and carefully. Then you pour the yolk from one part of the shell to the other until only it is left. The egg white will flow into the bowl beneath it automatically." She puts a spoon full of rum into the dough and stares thoughtfully into her bowl. "Do you think I should use more? How will it taste then? Oh, or better not."

"And this will work out? Do you really think I am capable of doing this?" He begins carefully to open the first egg. Maybe a bit too carefully since he is not really able to open it, but you cannot trust hands that are used to heaving heavy things enough.

"No, but I can't do it either. This is why it does not make a difference if you toil yourself with it or if I do.", she says grinning and looks over to him. "Furthermore, you crush it against the rim of a cup or a glass, then you can break it open slowly. Otherwise, you won't be able to open it without crushing it completely."

"Watch out, I have a damp cloth over here and I am willing to throw it.", he growls, but she knows that he is as cheerful as she is at the moment. His looks tell her.

"Dare it! But woe! If an egg falls down or you don't part it right, then you should watch out." She weighs the flour out and from time to time she looks teasingly to her boyfriend, always waiting for an attack.

Concentrated, but with an amused face expression, he parts the egg. "I'd really like to see how you punch me. Rather your hand will hurt than my shoulder or any other part of my body you hit with it."

"Are you telling me I can't hit someone?", she asks and acts offended. "And who says that I would use my feasts?"

"As if you would use magic to hurt someone. Apart from that, I ask myself if there is more flour in your bowl or more spread in the whole kitchen."

"Shut up and work. And you will pick the pieces of the shell out of the egg white, capisce?" She flutters a kiss onto his cheek before she walks by to get the bowl with the yolk to mix it with the rum and the flour.

"Yes, Ma'am." He tries to give her a cuff, but she manages it to rescue herself with a big step forward just in time.

"Okay, now you stir the egg white until you have something like... snow? I lack a comparison, but you will know what I mean as soon as you see it. And that is when you put the sugar into the bowl.", she says while looking for a cake spring-form pan in the kitchen cupboard. "But don't stir like if you'd rather go to sleep instead of doing it. I don't like to be kept waiting."

"Oh my god, it's true what the people say." Saucer-eyed he watches her. "It's true, you are bossy."

"Eh, what?" Marcia looks at him puzzled. It takes her a few minutes to realise what he meant exactly. "Oh! OH! What do they say about me?"

"That you are bossy."

"Well, I AM the boss." She holds her head up high and struts with the cake spring-form to the other side of the table again to mix the dough with the yolk. "Go on."

He thinks for a second. "Selfish."

"I am dedicated."

"Kinda a floozy."

"If this was true, at least I would have had a sex life. But since I never had time to meet a guy at all... Well. I see it as a compliment. I am pretty enough for men to sleep with me... In the opinion of some people."

"Belligerent"

"Purposeful."

"Stubborn as a mule."

"Assertive."

"How do you manage it to make people talk about you like that?", he asks and looks at her thoughtfully. Sure, she can be exhausting, but she is not nearly as bad as he has heard multiple times.

"It is the jealousy and the lack of understanding, Milo.", she answers with a shrug. "And among those things, I do not want our relationship to be public. I know enough women who surely wouldn't push you out of bed."

"So you are afraid of the possible rivalry?"

"Kinda because... Why shouldn't there be one? You are handsome, charming and you have money. Besides that, I know some who would try to seduce you, only to give me a wipe or because they think I am an arrogant bitch." She says those things as if it is something normal. As if she would talk about something banal like the weather or something similar. It is true what he has thought so many times: He has no idea about what it is like to have her life.

Milo raises one of his eyebrows. "I understand the thing with the relationship, but what I don't understand is... What do other people motivate to judge you like that?"

"As long as they do not say it into my face, I don't really care about it. But let us talk about something more pleasant.", she answers him with a face expression which tells him, that he clearly shouldn't talk about this subject for now.

"I've finished this egg-sugar-stuff. Shall I grease the cake spring-form pan?" He hands her the little bowl and takes the butter and the brush.

"Since when do you know that you have to grease it?", she asks with a laugh and stirs the dough ready.

"I just know it... No, it stands on the slip and I don't even know how to do it. How much butter does it have to be? Very much or should it be more a... thin layer?"

"Medium would be good.", she says and peeps into the spring-form. "A bit less and it is fine."

He does as she said and waits patiently for her to finish up. In the meantime it cannot hurt to admire her, can it?

Some parts of her dark curls are full of flour and it is the same on her face and her clothes and the unusual pale of her skin make her green eyes even more piercing. It is more a bilious green and maybe it is the colour which makes her so scary for some people because it is an aggressive colour with a dark circle around it, but he loves it. He is sure that the eyes of Septimus have a softer and warm green, just like some other wizards he knows have. And some have darker or even lighter eyes. It is because she is an ExtraOrdinary Wizard? It this why her eyes have the purest green of them all? Certainly she doesn't know the answer either, so he doesn't ask her.

God, the fact of them being a couple is still so unbelievable... If he wants, he can put his arm around her.

Pull her into a hug.

Kiss her.

And all that without having to look for a reason why and without justifying it.

Dreamily he watches her pouring the dark dough into the spring-form and accomplishes dripping the last bit on the rim of the bowl over the table.

"Okay, now it has to stay in the oven for 30 minutes, then ten outside of it before I can put the Fondant stuff on it. Any idea how we can dawdle away those 40 minutes?"

"The what? Fondant?" He looks at her with a flabbergasted face expression and he asks himself what on earth a Fondant is and if he really wants to know the answer.

Marcia sights deeply. "Oh Milo, you still have to learn so much... It is a kind of coat for the cake." She gazes over the kitchen. "And it will take ages until it is immaculately clean again. Dear, dropping a bomb in here would not make a difference, I fear."

"How about letting the kitchen be the kitchen for now? Anyway, it will clean itself.", he says and pulls her closer. There is a big advantage of having a wizard as his girlfriend; no one has to bother about small household tasks that need half the day if you sum them up and do them yourself

"Sometimes I am sorry for those who do not have a self-cleaning household. But then again, I am sorry for myself because no normal person has to work as much as I have to." She lays her chin down on his shoulder and breathes out long and suffering. As the ExtraOrdinary Wizard, she has to be prepared for all possibilities. There can always be an emergency and the first person they will send for is her. That's why she is fraught all day and night, and even in her free time, she can't really rest. However, as soon as Milo clasps her in his arms, the whole stress decreases for the moment and her whole body relaxes immediately, just like right now.

"When are you supposed to have holidays? ", he asks and runs his fingers through some curls. He can literally feel how the hugs do her good and immediately he wonders why she bothers herself with so much work. A few days off wouldn't harm her, would they?

"Holidays...", she mumbles and she seems to think about it. "Holidays... I guess... No, I am almost certain... That... I don't have holidays and never had an official free day at least once in my time as the ExtraOrdinary Wizard. Actually, it only exists in my vocabulary because of Septimus."

"Never?" He takes a step back and stares at her, shocked. "You never have holidays?!"

"No, never. I only have the entire Sunday, presupposed no one needs me."

"For how many years are you already the ExtraOrdinary Wizard?" He is so shocked. How does she not snap because of the stress? He is not a lazy person, otherwise, he'd not have earned a fortune in the past years as a merchant, but even he takes time off every now and then because otherwise he crumbles under the stress and pressure.

"For half a year now Septimus is sixteen and the day he was born was my first day in office.." She huddles up against him and the fact that she is overworked for years now obviously doesn't bug her very much.

"How about travelling with me?", he asks with the naïve hope she may accept it and give herself some time off from work. "I know how much you love travelling and learning something new. Is there a better place to learn than in another culture? Septimus could do some of your work while you are away, mind you he has his graduation in a year or so."

"I certainly won't give a sixteen-year-old boy so much responsibility! First of all the pressure would be too much for him and second: I want to keep the job a little longer. If he messes it up I can pack my bags and hope a black hole will swallow me. I'd love to, but it is not possible at the moment."

"And one day? Later? When he is older?"

"Maybe.", she answers cagey and begins to kiss from his jaw down his neck, in the hope that it will distract him enough to make him not talk about it anymore. By now, she does not really care anymore if Septimus will walk in or not.

But Milo is too caring to get himself into the fondling. He has already seen so much in his life, has talked to so many doctors and wise people... He knows of a disease which had afflicted people who had worked too much too often, back in the old days. It had even driven some people to suicide because it had destroyed them enough to make them snap.

Burnout.

How well the name fits...

"About what are you thinking?", she whispers and places him a kiss on his lips, looks at him with her green eyes questioningly.

"I worry about you. What if the whole work makes you sick?" He also gives her a kiss and runs his thumb over her chin. "What if you break down?"

"It won't happen, don't worry yourself! I can assess myself very good." Beneath her soft sounding voice he also hears an irritated sound, she is done with this topic.

"But please don't be too proud to admit it if you aren't able to deal with it anymore, okay? Let me know and I will be here." He hugs her tightly, not wanting to let her go.

"What good thing did I do that made me deserve someone like you?"

* * *

"And you roll it and then you wrap it around the cake? Or throw it on it?", he asks and watches her sceptically rolling out the Fondant - which reminds him of Plasticine very much - while he frees the cake out of its form.

"Exactly. You can decorate the cake way better with it." She feels for irregularities and checks if it is already thin enough. "After all, Dandra won't become 40 years old ever again and maybe the only hobby I have and had developed in my teenage years is good for something for once."

"Gosh, yes. I remember your paintings and the day you came up with the idea to draw on CAKES." He shakes his head and places the spring-form pan into the sink where a cloth and washing-up liquid start to clean it immediately.

"That's what happens when you do not have many options as an apprentice. And you can paint easier aside from studying than learning how to play the piano." With a fast movement, she lifts the sugar mixture and throws it over the cake, tugs it fast enough to get rid of the folds. "Is there a crack? No, I don't think so..."

"Even back then you had worked so much... Although you were an apprentice." Thoughtfully he watches her striking the Fondant.

"Is this a blame?" Exasperated, she looks at him and reaches for the sugar colours and the brushes. "I am not the one who had consoled herself with another man after we hadn't seen us that often anymore."

"Marcia, C'mon. I didn't mean it like that, I swear." Sometimes he could fall into despair because of her difficult personality.

She is so sensitive when it comes to relationships towards other persons...

"I am sorry... I should stop being so bitchy. It is just... I don't know." She brushes some curls out of her face. "Why do we always get into this subject of me working too much and not having enough time today?"

"Because it haunts us somehow?" He starts filling the piping bag with a frosting she needs later on.

"Maybe. And probably I am too stressed and afraid of what will come in the future." She bathes one brush in the first colour and starts painting.

"Is it because Septimus has his graduation in a few months and will move out after it?", he asks.

"Yes, this is what niggles me the most.", she admits. "I offered him staying here as long as he wants, but he sees the time after his graduation as the last chance to go to a university. He wants to get away from the Castle so bad, away from his home. He got an offer for a study on the old mainland. There are universities which teach an older and different kind of Magyk and this is what he wants. I already taught him a bit of it, after all, my father is from the mainland and learnt this kind of Magyk, but he wants more. I won't see him for a year, maybe he will stay there even longer."

"Do you really think he will stay away that long?", he asks a bit doubtingly. "I think he overestimates himself a bit with it."

"He has survived the Young Army, the Queste, the islands of Syren and so many other things. I do not think it will be a big problem for him to escape his old life for a while. But I will not only miss him but also fear for him. You know the best how dangerous voyages like this can be." She paints black outlines of flowers on the upside of the cake, does it with the perfection with which she does everything. She is one of those persons who live the 'Go big or go home'. If she is bad at it, is not able to do it perfectly, she does not do it. It's that's easy.

"It is not as dangerous as you may think. Where does he want to go? I guess he goes to the centre of the mainland? To the coast of the Med?" A bit over challenged he tries to stop the crème from leaking out of the piping bag, but he doesn't really succeed. "Or more eastern?"

"I have no idea, I've never been there." Irritated of her hair, she ties her hair up before she continues with the paintings on the cake. "Hopefully, he will change his mind, but I doubt it."

"Don't worry too much about it. He is hardy and intelligent." He tips with the forefinger, on which is some of the frosting, on the tip of her nose.

"Gosh, Milo, what are you doing?" Startled she takes a flying leap backwards and accomplishes it to let excess colour on the brush drip onto the floor.

Grinning, he takes a step forward with the intention to give her a stroke over her cheek.

She tries to duck him, tries to finagle a way around him but fails. A squeak escapes her as another stroke is on her forehead.

"Tell me, are you a child?", she asks with all the seriousness she can bring up.

"C'mon, why so serious?", he counters and snatches the bowl with the rest of the crème.

With wide open eyes, she looks to him, then to his weapon and back, still trying to reach the door. "I warn you, if you really do this we are divorced people."

"We aren't even married."

"We do not have to be married for me being able to cut you out of my life.", she says with a pretended coldness and struts past him. "Just do it. Dare it. You know where you find the door afterwards."

For a moment, they stare at each other, not moving, not saying anything and Milo is not sure if he shall stop or if he can dare it.

It is as if you look into the eyes of a cat, not knowing if it is aggressive or only wants to play.

But when does this cat ever want to play?

Slowly she reaches out her arm to grasp the bowl and pull it towards her. "Nursery child. I'd rather eat this stuff than having it in my hair because of you and than having to look for something which I can use for revenge."

"Just wait a second, I have another idea. Don't move. Just let me do it."

"You are so annoying today, do you know that?", she says and rolls her eyes, but a small smile plays around her lips. "I've never been so slow with something ever before."

"You know me and maybe I only want you to live for a bit. Just because you are a politician, it doesn't mean that you have to deny yourself every fun in life.", he says and takes the bowl from her again. "And stop rolling your eyes all the time."

"But it is so hard to pull me up." It is nearly a grouse. "Now do what you have to do."

"Drama queen." He shakes his head and starts distributing a bit crème on her lips.

Automatically, she licks over them and looks at him quizzically. "What are you doing?"

"Impatient like no one else I've ever met. Wait and don't lick everything away immediately." He does the same again.

After he has finished, he starts to kiss her lips, soft, but also a bit longing. The crème makes the kiss for both of them even sweeter than it already is, makes them fight a bit over it. She feels a light nibbling at her lips, a tongue tip which parts her lips. It feels unaccustomed, several years have passed since her last tongue kiss and it feels a bit odd for at first, but yet she enjoys it. She has missed the passion which is the result of a kiss like this as much as she has missed the irregular breathing and the being-embraced.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she snuggles up to him tighter as she feels his arms around her waist. It is an eternal play between their tongues and as so often they forget everything around them, the time included.

This is how it has to be.

This is what she has always wanted and this is exactly what she has now, after all those years.

She lives this dream even with the man she has always wanted by her side.

She can hardly believe her luck and as long as she is together with him, everything else is not important.

The upcoming work. The chaotic kitchen. The refurbishing of the library. The appointments with the tailoring, the customs of port, the palace and the Manuskriptorium.

She doesn't feel the stress all this brings along as long as she is together with him.


	3. Clothes

_**The last edited chapter. This caused me some trouble since I decided to not longer follow my plot line to keep the angst out and the fluff in. Means: Less drama, more love. I hope you can forgive me for the length of the chapter. I will make up with a longer one.**_

"I have to admit: It really is a bit parky." She chafes her hands, shivers a bit and hates herself for choosing this dress. Short sleeves and a skirt which barely covers her whole knee. Really not the best choice for those temperatures. But you should think a July night is warmer than this.

"What have you expected? 25 degrees like by day?", he asks and puts an arm around her shoulder to give her at least a bit of his body warmth. "But you can't say I didn't tell you."

"Who are you to tell me this right into my face? My mother?", she asks a bit snappishly and wraps her own arms around her additionally. But even the warmth of three arms doesn't make it better, somehow.

"I am your life companion, I am allowed to say that."

"Well, but even if I had believed you, I wouldn't have had other clothes at your place. Neither a dress with longer sleeves nor a jacket or a coat." Staggering a bit because he has his arm very tight around her and doesn't have the same length of steps as her, they go in the direction of the big market in the castle. "Shall we get some hot punch first?" Changing the topic. Avoiding a squabbling. Not snapping at him without a reason, because it's not his fault and because she should appreciate his ministrations.

"Hot punch in a parky night like this? Sounds good to me." Dreamily he looks straight to the lights which show where the big market starts at the end of the back lane. It promises to be a beautiful night, even though they have to be there as 'just friends'. "But tell me when it gets too cold, okay? I know you. If you get a cold, or even the flu, you would go to work, no matter how near death already is."

"Okay, what does that do for me? You won't be able to help me if I should start freezing." She gives him a last and short, but passionate kiss, before they go side by side with enough space between them to not be identified as a couple immediately.

Contrary to the Wizard Tower, Milo's house has the advantage that there are hardly any lamps which light the streets and make every person very visible. In this case, even Marcia appreciates the anonymity of the darkness.

"I bet the stall is on the other side, as always. At least we can already look at the others."

Side by side they stroll over the market, stop to look or buy things, talk to friends, tough most of them are his. At one point they even separate so he can talk shop with another sailor while she joins Dandra and another woman.

* * *

"Gosh, it is so bitterly cold..." She comes from behind, stands right beside him. "And I think this is the moment in which I tell you that I am nearly frozen to... Oh, Hello." Confused, she looks into the brown face of a woman.

Obviously, he has talked to her and she has no problem with that, but still... It surprises her because she has never seen her before.

"Hello.", answers the woman with a strong accent and a friendly smile. Is this the woman who comes from a subcontinent far away? She has heard about her. And she has certainly heard the accent before, at least it sounds very familiar. "It's a pleasure to talk to you in person, Madam Marcia."

"Good evening." Marcia forces herself to also smile and tries desperately to suppress her tremor. Shivering because of the for summer freezing temperatures, she is in a bad mood and that is why she clearly does not need a good looking, 30-year-old woman next to her boyfriend, especially a woman whose face expression tells her that she'd like to come to know him better.

Only the soft expression of Milo calms her down a bit and stops her from becoming a bit bitchy towards her.

"I assume you are chilled to the bones by now?", he asks and puts his drink away.

"No, I am warm, don't you see that?", she answers with as much sarcasm in her voice as possible. Five more minutes in this coldness and she might drop dead. "But thank you for asking."

"Before you become highly reserved..." Watched by three surprised persons – the mysterious woman, Marcia and an old man – he undresses his shirt, even though he only wears a T-Shirt underneath it.

"W... What are you doing?", Marcia asks with widened eyes, a bit over-challenged with this situation. Somehow she does not see a link between his words and his action.

It really isn't warm and if she had given the opportunity earlier, he would have done this much earlier. He holds it as if it is her coat he wants to help her in. To the void with her principle of not showing anyone what really is between them, he will not watch her catching death.

Slowly, but at least at all, it dawns at Marcia why he stands there like this. Still a bit confused, she slips into his shirt and immediately appreciates the warmth that is still caught in the fabric. The shivering stops slowly, so does the teeth chattering, but it will be only a matter of time until it will get even colder and it will start again. Besides, she has better things to do than chatting with a random woman when she can spend some time with Milo somewhere else?

"Fancy a hot drink at Ma Coustard's? I think I saw a few people sitting in the Café when I passed it a few minutes ago, so I assume they have not closed yet." Her shoulder slightly touches his upper arm as she looks up to him. "Because I am pretty sure you will be the one who will freeze in a few minutes."

"You may be right.", he replies and investigates his arm on which are already goose bumps. "Tea might be a good idea as well."

After they bid goodbye to the woman, they walk towards their destination with Marcia glaring at anyone who even considers approaching them for a talk.

"I might even need something stronger than tea.", she mutters and links her arm with his to at least get a bit of his body warmth, at least this is her excuse to herself why she allows herself to be near him. "Heck, if it will start raining additionally..."

"Calm down. Let's drink something first and from Ma Coustard, it will be only a few metres for you to reach the Tower."

"Hmph." Not entirely convinced from his estimation of the distance between her home and the Café, she looks at him. "But you do know that you will never get this shirt back?"

He chuckles softly. "Why?"

"You know exactly why." She nudges him with her elbow which only makes him wrap an arm around her shoulders.

* * *

Happy and ready for bed, she enters her apartment.

Her curls are rumpled, she is tired and a bit hungry, but her mood is a lot better than it was a few hours ago.

If she ignores the fact that there will be a search in one of the houses near the north gate tomorrow afternoon, she can take a nice shower, snuggle down in her pillows and fall asleep happily afterwards.

The lights in the kitchen are still on; Septimus probably still works on his essay or studies for the first of the many exams he will have to pass before he can graduate.

Dear Septimus...

She decides to join him for a while, wants to let this long day fade away with a conversation.

"Good evening.", she says as she closes the door behind her and walks into the kitchen.

"Good evening, Marcia." With a grin, her apprentice leans back in his seat to be able to see her. "But it's more night, don't you think so?"

"Then good night?" She collapses into a chair opposite to him, still wearing Milo's shirt It is too cosy to undress it and why should she do it? Only because she wants to chat with Septimus? "But you have to admit... It sounds very outlandish. No one of us wants to go to bed right now, so..."

"Don't worry, I was joking. And I am surprised that you came home this late. Actually, I thought you've already gone to bed hours ago.", he says, bending over his books again. "And if you allow this question... Whose shirt is this?" He tries to let it sound casual, but Marcia is not so stupid to think he doesn't nearly burst with curiosity.

She will string him along, won't tell him now. "Of someone."

"Of a man, I guess?"

She hunches her shoulders, feigns ignorance. "Who knows?"

"Come on, please! Don't be so mean. It's none of my business, but still.", he whines.

"You've got it, it is none of your business." She appreciates it. One day she will have to tell him, but not now. Especially because this play is too much fun.

"I've realised it a while ago that you are in a better mood in general and you seem to be happier. I'm happy for you, I really am." Thoughtfully he starts to knock his knuckles onto the table. A habit which nearly has been driven her to insanity several times. "But who is the happy one?"

It had been a bit... weird when the thought of Marcia having a boyfriend crossed his mind the first time. This woman and having a crush? Being in love? Let alone being in a relationship? He has never seen a person in his life who is as focused on work as she is. And at the same time, it has somehow been hard for her to have much contact with other people. Indeed, it got better over the years, but he has never gotten the feeling as if a relationship would be important for her; He had thought that maybe it is the last thing on earth she would ever need in her life.

But it seems like he had been wrong. Again.

This woman is a walking mystery, as well for others, as for herself probably. To him, it often appears as if she has no idea about what she feels, what she wants and what she should do with her feelings herself. That she has a relationship now, surprises him very much.

If he is right with his assumption at all.

"This, my dear, is a secret. I know that I can trust you, but it is too fresh and sensitive to tell it anyone." She smiles and reaches for one of the cookies which he had put on a plate as food for his nerves.

"So you date him?", he asks, knowing that there is no point in continuing with asking for the name. If Marcia Overstrand doesn't want to, she doesn't do it, it's that simple.

"Yes, I think so."


End file.
